


so it's a deal then?

by soulflxwers



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Abused Reader, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Bullying, Child Abuse, Demon Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Depression, Drug Use, F/M, High School, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Protective Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Serial Killer Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Yandere Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), i hope you enjoy anyway, may be a bit cliche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26486752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulflxwers/pseuds/soulflxwers
Summary: Your life is filled with abuse, neglect, and hopelessness. But everything changed when you found that old antique radio in your basement.BE ADVISED - THIS STORY CONTAINS: heavy gore/blood, profanity, child abuse, mentions of suicide
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) & Reader, Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 163





	so it's a deal then?

**Author's Note:**

> If violence, gore, child abuse, or mentions of suicide trigger you emotionally in any way, I recommend you skip this story. 
> 
> Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy! Constructive criticism is welcomed.

# so it's a deal then?

*** * ***

**BE ADVISED:**  
This story contains:

_\- Heavy gore/blood_  
_\- High profanity  
\- Child abuse  
\- Severe bullying  
\- Mentions of suicide_

_Credit of image above goes to @sanjii33 _( **三时地利** ) _on Twitter._

* * *

It all started with that old antique radio that once belonged to your great grandfather. 

Surprisingly, it still functioned (somewhat). It was a radio that was manufactured during the 1920’s, which is the era of the Roaring Twenties. You knew this due to your fascination with history. 

The radio was rounded on top with intricate carvings engraved into the polished mahogany wood. When you found it in your father’s old dusty basement (where he throws all his useless junk), it was just sitting there on the shelf, aged and dormant in a layer of dust. Fond of antiques, you simply couldn’t help yourself when you plucked it off the shelf and wiped it clean with a dampened wash rag, careful with the clothed speakers that could easily be damaged. Antiques are quite fragile, after all.

You delicately powered it on, but as you fidgeted with the radio dial, all you heard emit from it was the buzz and hum of old static. With a sigh, you had powered it back off and left it as a decoration on your desk and proceeded to continue your studies from your Senior year of high school.

You continued to remind yourself that you merely have _one year left_ before you finally graduate out of that hellhole, and find an escape to all of your troubles. 

Amidst your thoughts, you heard the radio come to life without you even touching it. 

The static gained your attention as you lifted your eyes from your homework papers and to the buzzing antique radio from the 20’s. At first, you thought it was just from a mere malfunction; after all, the thing is almost a century old. It’s quite perplexing to the fact the old thing even works. 

Then you truly began panicking when the radio dial _began moving on its own_. 

You watched with horror evident in your (E/C) eyes as it flipped through various channels, static popping louder and louder as it did so. And finally, it came to a stop at one particular channel you didn’t know existed. You read the number through narrowed eyes and felt dread come over you like a tidal wave.

_It stopped at the number 666._

There was a moment of silence as you just stared at it with shock. And then you nearly fell out of your chair from surprise when a _voice_ emitted from the old radio.

_“Good evening, darling! And how are you on this fine day?”_

The voice sounded jovial, laced with the radio static. It sounded like a radio host from the 1920’s with that Transatlantic accent they tended to possess. You blinked in silence as you wracked your brain from confusion and thousands of questions. _Was it speaking to you? Or was this some kind of joke someone was playing on you?_

That idea was overruled when it spoke once again. “ _Hello? Hello? Is this thing on? Testing, testing…!_ ” You could hear them tap against the microphone. “ _Can you hear me, my dear?_ ”

You blinked once more. Perhaps you’re finally going crazy. But hesitantly in a soft voice, you replied timidly with a stutter, “M-Me…?”

The voice laughed cheerfully before _answering you_. “ _Why of course! Who else, dear?_ ”

“I-I…” you were at a loss for words. You thought the old radio was broken. But now, some strange person mimicking a radio host from the 20’s was speaking to you. But how the hell could they even hear you? You thought of the possibilities; perhaps they installed some sort of device in the old radio to simulate a two-way radio. But who would do that to a precious antique?

“ _Hm? What was that, dear?_ ”

Taking a deep breath, you finally said, “Who are you?”

“ _Oh! My most sincere apologies for my rude manners! I am Alastor! And who might you be, darling?_ ”

You reluctantly replied, “Um, (Y/N)...”

“ _Beautiful name for a beautiful lady such as yourself!_ ”

You furrowed your eyebrows out of curiosity, thoughts racing through your mind many miles a second. “You… you can’t see me, right?”

“ _Why of course I can see you, my dear! Such lovely (E/C) eyes you have!_ ”

Right then and there, you stumbled out of your seat with fright, scrambling away from the talking radio. You placed your hand on the doorknob of your bedroom, narrowing your eyes suspiciously at the antique item. “Okay, _Alastor_. Are you stalking me or something? I don’t know how you’re using that radio, but… I-I can call the authorities!”

_No you can’t. Your father would have your head if you dragged the police into his house._

“ _Now, now, my dear. I’m not here to hurt you! And this is my first time meeting you!_ ”

“Tell me who you really are!”

“ _I’ve already told you, darling! I’m Alastor!_ ”

“Okay… _w-what_ are you then?” you queried in a hushed tone. You attempted to hide the fear in your voice, but your attempts were futile as you slowly inched back toward the talking radio on your desk.

“ _I am a demon from Hell. But don’t worry, my dear! I have no intention of harming you!_ ”

 _Demon? From Hell? Did you even believe in that stuff? Angels and demons, Heaven and Hell._ But then again, the radio was stationed on channel 666. What else could explain that? And it’s not like somebody would actually waste their time rigging an antique radio from the 1920’s just to _prank_ someone. The station numbers don’t even go that far to six-hundred-sixty-six. 

You tried your very best to quit stuttering. “O-Okay then… and I assume you’re haunting that radio?”

“ _That’s correct!_ ”

“But w-why? Why are you talking to me of all people?”

“ _Quite simple, my dear! I’ve only come because you deeply desire something within the depths of your soul. And I can reach out to you through this old radio, you see!_ ”

“I desire something?”

“ _You do, darling!_ ”

“A-And what’s that?”

“ _I’m afraid you’ll have to figure that out for yourself!_ ”

✘ ✘ ✘

It had only been a week since Alastor’s arrival through the antique radio. The circumstances of his possession of the object are understandable, considering how he was a radio host from the 1920’s. And when you asked how he perished and was sent to Hell, he was quite blunt and _prideful_ about the fact that he was a serial killer from his time. This fact chilled you, but he seemed harmless to you anyway. And he didn't exactly have a physical manifestation.

Everyday you’d return from school and retreat back into the personal lair of your bedroom, his jolly voice would always be there to greet you. Eventually, you became accustomed to his presence. You would spend your time doing your homework as he chatted up a storm. You would always listen, comforted by the fact you had someone to actually _talk to_. 

But today was a rather _awful_ day. Daily at school, you were often targeted due to your demure and introverted nature of not talking to anyone. You would seclude yourself, not spending time with anyone (due to your kindling anxiety), and simply immerse yourself into your artwork within your sketchbook. And false rumors—slander—would spread about you, simply because of every teen’s pure _hunger_ for drama. They need someone _vulnerable_ to release all of their stresses upon. That unfortunate person being _you_. 

_“I heard that she draws porn in her sketchbook. No wonder she hides it from everyone!”_

_“I heard she’s like, super mean and full or herself. It’s best to avoid her.”_

_“Don’t hang out with her. She’s super weird.”_

_“I heard she fucked all the popular boys. What a slut!”_

_“Ew, seriously? She’s like, not even that pretty! I’m pretty sure they just used her like the tool she is!”_

You tried to ignore their slanderous words, but you had to admit, it stung. It pierced you like blades, though you pretended not to care. Behind their backs, when they were turned away, you would cry. You would dampen your pillow with your tears at night. But now with Alastor, you couldn’t cry. He would view you as _weak_ , and leave you like the rest of the people who even _bothered_ with you. And, due to him being a demon from Hell (albeit, one of the most notorious of them), he probably just wants to consume your petty soul, nothing more.

But this particular day was rather unfavorable _._ Especially when you returned home to your father who had come back from work early. The inebriate of your father was intoxicated from liquor and those powdered drugs he used again. When you entered through the door, your father eerily _beamed_ at you and beckoned you to him. 

Dropping your bag by the door, you foolishly obliged. “Um, everything okay, Dad?”

There were red flags. Your father had always been abusive toward you. 

_Why do you still care about him? Why do you care about the disgusting wretch of a man who abused your mother to the point of suicide?_

“C’mere, girl.” He patted his lap. You paused right there, narrowing your eyes. 

“Dad, you’re drunk. Like, really bad. I can get you a glass of water or—”

“It ain’t so bad. Get over here.”

“Dad—”

“Do what you’re told to do, girl!” he roared. And so you did, climbing up onto his lap, quivering. He ran his grubby fingers through your (H/C) hair. You shuddered with disgust. Especially when his hand began slipping under your top and trailing up your bare back. You bit your lip hard; it drew blood.

_You hate him._

_You hate him so much._

_Why do you just sit by and take this? Fear? Anxiety?_

You shoved him away and stumbled off the sofa, losing your footing in the process. You wouldn’t allow that to happen to you. You won’t allow the very man who destroyed your life just do what he wants with you, as if you were a mere _toy_. He disgusted you so much. You wished he were _dead_.

He didn’t take your reaction very well. He stood up, scowling down at you with fury in his darkened (E/C) eyes. He took steps toward you, and you backed away. But when your back hit a wall, he slammed his fists to sides of your frail body, cracking the plaster of the walls, pinning you there. You stared at him with wide, terrified eyes like a little rabbit being pinned by a viciously hungry wolf.

“You know why you’re still alive, girl!?” His voice was thunderous and seemingly vibrated the house.

You didn’t answer his rhetorical question. You just cowered, though you wished you could fight back. But the things he could do to you are _terrible_. Your stomach churned at the thought.

“I pay the goddamn bills in this house! I fucking feed you, you damn ungrateful bitch! Treat me with some respect!” He lifted his hand and slapped you. _Hard_. The force of impact was so strong that you fell on your side. Your face stung harshly. He stormed off then, fuming to himself.

“Next time, I’ll fucking do much worse, you piece of shit!” he yelled from afar, slamming the door shut to his bedroom. It echoed through the house, and you sat there, hand curled around your stinging cheek and quivering uncontrollably. 

You just sat for a few minutes, your cheeks now wet from the tears you fought so hard against. With shaky legs, you returned to your room, your school bag slinged over your shoulder. You opened the door quietly and shut it, making sure to lock it. Not that it would really stop your father if he really wanted to come into your bedroom. But thankfully, he almost never intruded upon your quarters, as you never did to his.

You sat on your bed, face buried in your hands as you silently sobbed.

“ _I see now, my sweet dear,_ ” came Alastor’s kind voice, though it was low and soft this time. 

You flinched from it. You had briefly forgotten about Alastor. You frantically wiped your tears, still shaking from the events that had just occurred. “D-Did you, um… d-did you h-hear that...?” you hiccuped out, hardly making out your words coherently. In means for comfort, you wrapped your thick blankets around your trembling form. 

“ _I did, my dear. But there's no need for waterworks. It hurts my heart to see my beloved darling without that beautiful smile._ ”

You let out a dry and breathy bark of laughter. “I-I didn’t know you had a heart, Al.”

“ _Yessir, I do, my dear! It is merely locked away, but it aches for you._ ”

You remained silent to that statement, curling under your sheets and shutting your eyes tightly. You steadied your breathing to cease those annoying hiccups. Though you wouldn’t admit it, Alastor’s charming voice was very comforting to hear. He was like a stress-reliever for a bad day. 

_You don’t want him to leave you behind like everyone else._

Finally, you spoke softly through the dim lighting of your bedroom, querying, “What did you mean by what you first said?”

“ _Hm?_ ”

“You said that you ‘see it now.’ What did you mean? See what?”

“ _Ah, yes! I understand why your soul drew me here. You will understand with time, my dear._ ”

Ever since then, Alastor just wasn’t in that old radio. It was like his presence _followed_ you. It was like he lurked in the shadows everywhere you went, watching you closely like a guardian angel, though he’s far from an _angel_. And then he began to whisper into your mind like telepathy. You could hear him, but nobody else could. At first, it startled you, but you grew used to him following you about. However, unfortunately…

_He followed you to school as well._

You attempted to avoid any quarrels. It was embarrassing; especially if Alastor was watching. You feared that he would see you as a feeble coward who’s too afraid to stand up for herself. 

But it didn’t take long for him to find out your miserable situation at school as well.

Someone had purposely shoved you as you hastily made your way to your final class of the day. You were exhausted and hungry from skipping lunch by just staying in the library all day to read. Nobody hardly went there, so you found it to be a serene environment to read and study; although, you were not allowed to eat there due to the carpeted floors. As a result of the “accidental” shove, you fell to your knees, all of your supplies spilling from your arms.

“Watch it, clumsy bitch,” the haughty girl said with a scoff.

You scrambled to collect all of your books and educational supplies as the girl sauntered away, her ankle boot’s heels clicking down the hall. Your face was on fire as you heard Alastor comment.

“ _Hm. How very rude. Are all kids like that nowadays?_ ” Alastor’s smooth voice questioned in your head. It still sounded like he was speaking through a radio, his words laced with static. You found it somehow soothing in a strange way.

“Not all of them,” you mumbled quietly as you got to your feet, steadying your balance.

“ _Are you alright, my dear?_ ”

“Yeah, I’m fine…” _Sorry you had to witness that,_ you wanted to say.

Thankfully, nothing much more happened that day. But it continued as the days passed. Alastor saw more and more of the terrible predicaments you were forced into. How rumors of you spread like wildfire. How they taunted you, treated you like you didn’t have a right to exist. With their vulgar words and slander, you knew Alastor could see your tears. It humiliated you. You felt puny and _worthless_. You felt he would _abandon_ you.

Until that one day.

“Hey there, slut. I heard you let people fuck you for some cash. Wanna hang out at my place for a few bucks, girly?” some obnoxiously rude jock asked you as you rummaged through your locker for your science textbooks. You heard Alastor’s static in your mind grow louder. You concluded that occurred when he became angry. 

“What you heard is wrong,” you heard yourself hiss, Alastor’s anger affecting your own. “Now leave me alone.”

“Big words coming from a little rabbit like you,” the arrogant jock replied snarkily.

You closed your locker and moved away to leave him, your blood boiling, but then he slammed you against the lockers. The static in your mind grew so loud, you could hardly hear what he was saying. But that disgusting smirk on the jock’s face told you enough of his intentions.

 _“(Y/N),”_ came Alastor’s voice, deep with madness, sending a dark chill down your spine. _“Let me kill him.”_

You were mildly shocked by Alastor’s words. Suddenly, your leg moved without your consent. Your thigh was brought up and your knee slammed against his crotch with strength you didn’t know you had. He cried out in pain and dropped down. With that, you fled to class as quickly as your legs could take you. Fortunately, he was in too much pain to pursue you, but you could hear his furious shouts, but your blood coursing and your heartbeats filled your ears.

You were too shocked to say anything to Alastor until school was over. As you waited for the public bus to arrive, you clutched the fabric of your shirt tightly with shaking clammy hands, staring at your worn shoes as if they were the most fascinating piece of clothing ever.

“Alastor,” you said quietly so nobody would hear you.

“ _Yes, my darling?_ ”

“Did you… do that?”

“ _Do what, sweetheart?_ ”

“Did you um, move my leg? To hit that guy who pushed me against the lockers back there?”

“ _Hm, yes. I believe so!_ ”

 _Did he semi-possess you?_ “But… how did you take control like that?”

“ _It seems as though my anger physically had an affect on you, my dear._ ”

“So… you didn’t possess me?”

“ _Of course not! I would never without your consent, darling!_ ”

The loud bus rolled by with its screeching brakes and opened its doors. You climbed aboard, scanning your bus pass and sitting up front alone. You plugged in your earbuds to listen to electro swing, since both you and Alastor enjoy that genre of music. He’s old-fashioned since he died in the early 1930’s. Electro swing is the closest he’ll ever get to modernized music. And you’re fine with that, since you’re very open-minded when it comes to all kinds of music genres.

When you returned home, you discovered (thankfully) that your father wasn’t there yet. Rather at work or getting wasted in a bar like the wino he is. You locked yourself in your bedroom and decided to rest before doing your homework. 

You laid there, exhausted, before Alastor piped up.

“ _My dear, I believe a chat is in order about those vulgar schoolchildren and your father._ ”

You tensed up at his words, but didn’t move from your supine position. “What is there to talk about?”

There was silence on the other end. But only for a few moments. Perhaps he did finally just give up on your miserable little life. But then, he quietly spoke. But his voice was different. This time, his static-y voice was like he was standing right in front of you rather than coming from the antique radio on your desk.

“ **Open your eyes, my dear.** ”

You snapped them open, and saw something—or rather, _someone_ —you’d never thought you’d see. 

A red man, tall and slim, stood before you in your bedroom. He held a cane with a microphone on it. His attire consisted of a red pinstripe suit and a bowtie. But what mostly caught your attention was his face: his luminous glowing red eyes and that large and unsettling yellowed Cheshire grin. You blinked in shock, but willed yourself not the panic.

Instead, you took a deep shaky breath and quietly said, “Alastor…?”

“The one and only, my dear!” He snatched your hand up in his red gloved hand and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, just like a gentleman. The action made your cheeks erupt in red.

“Y-You’re here!?” 

He flashed you a charming smile and twirled his cane with amusement. “Yes, indeedy!”

“But how!?”

“Nevermind that!” Alastor chuckled lightly. “We must discuss a few things, my darling. Regarding those cretins at your school and your vile father.”

You sat up on your bed, hugging your knees tightly as you rocked slowly to calm your racing nerves. His grin never left. It was as if it was forever stuck like that for eternity. No wonder he always told you to smile. _You’re never fully dressed without one,_ he’d say over and over.

“Okay… um, what is it?”

“I’d like to make a _deal_ with you, my dearest (Y/N).”

Your eyes widened. “A-A deal!? Is that why you’ve come to me? Just for a deal? Like, you wanna take my soul?” _You knew it was too good to be true. To be friends with a powerful demon Overlord._

He laughed as if it were the silliest thing he ever heard. “Oho, no, no, no! That isn’t the reason, my dear! I don’t want your soul!” He leaned forward, hand resting on your shoulder as he gazed at you with half-lidded scarlet eyes. “ **I want _you_**.”

You blinked, contemplating if you heard him correct. “ _Me_? What do you mean?”

“I want you to be mine, my dear! That simple, really!”

“You mean you’re gonna use me?” Your heart sank to your churning stomach. “L-Like my father? Make me your slave in Hell?”

“Oh no, of course not!” Alastor exclaimed with brief fits of laughter. And what he did next shocked you to the very core. He leaned closer and captured your lips with his own. The kiss only lasted a few seconds and he straightened himself back up, resting his cane at the crook of his elbow, grinning as if nothing happened. “What I mean, dearest, is that you be _mine_. _My bride in Hell_.”

_. . .What?_

“I’m sorry, but… pardon me?”

“I want you to be my beloved bride! And in exchange, I will end everyone here who has contributed to this painful life of yours! They will all get what they deserve for harming such a deliciously innocent soul.” His eyes darkened and horrifyingly turned into radio dials. “ _They will not live for another day. I will spill their blood for you, my darling!_ ”

“A-Alastor, I can’t let you do that.”

He returned to normal, tilting his head gradually, but his smile never let up. “No?”

“I-I can’t just let you kill everyone who wronged me. It isn’t right.”

“Hm…” he tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Why don’t you think about my offer this week? Then you can give me your answer by the end of it!”

You sighed softly and nodded in agreement. Finally, you observed him closely, taking his physical manifestation’s appearance into account. His coat flared out, the ends of it tattered and partially scorched. He is slim, almost malnourished, but a good figure, nonetheless. “Alastor, is this what you really look like... in Hell?”

“This is my demon form, yes!” 

“And you’re…” you spied his fluffy ears and small black antlers protruding from his head, “...a deer?”

“That’s correct, my _deer_! Haha!” He seated himself next to you, crossing his legs as his microphone cane disappeared in a dark flash. He watched you, eyes bright with an unidentifiable emotion. Nothing _dangerous_ , at least.

You glanced down to your lap, nervously fidgeting with your fingers. “What if I _do_ happen to take you up on your offer? Will I live in Hell with you?”

“You will! But don’t fret, darling! I will make sure _nobody hurts you_. You will be my lover, after all!” He spoke so calmly and cheerfully, as if it were a completely normal conversation.

“A-Ah, okay…”

“And I’ll be sure to take good care of you!” He reached out to smooth your (H/L) hair with his softer smile. “Now, my darling, would you care to tell me why you’re here?”

You slightly cocked your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you live with your father? Where is your mother?”

You didn’t hesitate. You were shocking yourself to just how blunt you were. “My mom’s dead. She killed herself because my father abused her so terribly. She shot herself with Dad’s handgun. When she passed, he decided to start taking his anger out on me instead, I suppose.”

When he didn't respond, you glanced up at him.

Alastor is _shaking_. You looked up to his eyes momentarily see the _terrifying rage_ in his crimson irises. Then he returned to normal quickly and patted your head. “If you accept my offer, he will never lay another finger on you ever again. And I will also _kill him in Hell_ when he arrives there!”

You bit your lip and rolled your shoulders in a shrug.

He started blabbering about how he kills his victims and broadcasts his carnage throughout Hell via the radio, therefore naming him the “Radio Demon.” He says the nickname the sinners had given him is silly, but you were hardly listening to his words, mind wandering into other places. You finally spoke up after some heavy pondering.

“Alastor?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Why me?” You took yet another deep breath, eyes aiming directly into his own. “Why do you want me to be your, um, bride?”

Once again, he leaned close to you again, his lips ghosting over your own. The cool glass of his monocle brushed against your cheek. As a response, your heart pounded quickly against your rib cage, like a wild animal trying to escape. “I just simply find you absolutely _intoxicating_ , my sweet darling. Originally, I was merely going to take your soul through a deal, but you… you _fascinated_ me. You’re so much _more…_ ” He started caressing your cheek benignly. It was nothing like how your father did it to you. His love and affection was… so _genuine_ and devoid of lust. In fact, you melted against his touch.

“ _I want to rip all of them apart for hurting you, my dear._ ”

He whispered in your ear, voice as soft as a feather, his hot breath tickling your skin.

“ _Just say the word and I will kill them all. I’ll make them suffer._ ”

“Alastor…”

He crashed his lips to your again, but this time, much more _passionately_. It was a hot and needy kiss, deep and loving. It melted your heart and solidified it, liquefying it over and over again. You shivered, leaning against him as he deepened the kiss, drinking in his warmth. He showed up when you were almost finished with life. He _rescued_ you, though his first intention was to steal your _soul_. You heard of deals with demons—they make a deal to give you riches for the last years of your life, but when you die, your soul is forever bound to them. Whether they play with it or consume it. _But all he wanted was your love._

_He wanted you._

_And nobody had ever wanted you before._

✘ ✘ ✘

“Leave me alone,” you coldly told your bullies at school in the morning. As you awoke, Alastor had awoken a fire within you, gifting you the confidence you always lacked. 

“Excuse me, bitch?” the girl replied, angrily staring you down with her icy eyes. 

You merely gave her an eye roll. “Do I really have to repeat myself?"

“Listen here, little _slut_. I can make your life a living hell if I wanted to. So don’t challenge me. You’re just a weak little _bitch_ who thinks you’re better than everyone else.”

“You can make my life a living hell? Then _prove_ it,” you challenged.

She did. Well, she _tried_ to. 

At lunch, you were dragged outside from a group of your worst bullies. There were five of them, in which three were bitchy girls who wanted to watch you be beaten to a bloody pulp by their boyfriends. They sat on a dumpster, puffing out smoke from their cigarette and gazing at you as if you had three heads.

Alastor’s invisible body followed, his grin widened with sheer _excitement_.

 _He knew your plan. He couldn’t wait to_ _tear them all apart_ _._

“Heard you hurt my girlfriend, you little fucking ugly bitch,” one of the guys spat at you. 

“We’re gonna teach you a lesson, you whore.” 

They spit on you. How unsanitary and gross. You begin to hear Alastor’s static grow _louder_ , buzzing to where it was almost deafening. One of them started it off by slamming you against the brick wall. You collapsed to the concrete ground as the three girls laughed at your pathetic state. Your head spun at the impact, but the pain was numbed thanks to Alastor. Then they kicked you in the ribs, definitely bruising them. One then punched you in the jaw, not caring about the unspoken rule of guys not allowed to hit girls.

 _“My sweet darling,”_ Alastor cooed with dials for his eyes, crouching down and caressing your bloodied cheek as his shadows wrapped around you in a loving embrace. _“Let me spill their blood. You’ll have a front row seat to all the action!”_

They laughed as they continued to bloody you up. But then you smiled. You _smiled_ at them, despite the pain they delivered you. 

All your life, you lived a _nightmare_. Your mother was the only one who cared about you. She bought you gifts and cooked your meals. She sang to you, helped you with your homework. And you _watched_ as your father beat her with his fists until there was blood on his knuckles. You screamed and cried. And then you found your mother’s corpse. She killed herself from a bullet to the head using your father’s handgun. You had heard the ringing shot echo through the house and you had gone to investigate. You would never unsee the scene before your horrified eyes.

Your father blamed you for the incident, when _he_ was the one who pushed her over the edge, not you. He called you a mistake, beat you for it, and _touched_ you when he was drunk and lonely. You hated him, and you tried to love him like your mother did. _But you just couldn’t._

And then people began tormenting you at school, simply because you were too afraid to make friends. You were shy and quiet, reserved. They saw that as a _weakness_. They slandered you, physically hurt you, they stole your work, and accused you of things you never did, getting you into trouble all the time. Now, the teachers look at you like you’re an abomination too.

_You’re so tired of it._

_But then you met Alastor._

_“I’ll end this for you. Then you can come with me, and we will live together forever. I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again, my darling little doe.”_

You remember when you made the deal with him, just last night. You clutched his hand and emerald green fire engulfed you both. It burned your entire body, the pain agonizing, but he held you close, whispering sweet nothings into your ear that made your heart flutter and drowned out the pain. He sealed the deal with a vehement kiss. Now, you’re bound to his soul. And now, it’s his turn to act on his end of the bargain.

The static grew so loud, and your captors began to finally hear it. They paused from beating you and frantically looked around. They didn’t know where it was coming from. People tend to _fear the unknown_. 

“What the hell is that sound?” one of the girls asked, crushing her cigarette under her palm.

“I-I don’t know!”

“It’s hurting my ears! Is this some kind of fucking joke?”

One of the guys whipped his head to look at your smiling face. “ _You’re_ doing this, aren’t you!? You stupid bitch!” But before he could deliver another kick, he was yanked back by an unknown force. But you knew who did it. His head slammed against the wall, causing blood to trickle down his forehead as he was nearly knocked unconscious. 

“W-What the _hell_!?”

A form manifested before them, revealing the red demon. His shadow wrapped around him, hissing and laughing at the pathetic terrified teenagers. He was grinning like a psychopath as he gazed at his prey who dared harm his precious bride. His razor-sharp teeth glinted maliciously, a predatory look in his eyes. His antlers grew, his eyes dark with radio dials. He grew larger altogether, showing his true demon form. You watched with wide (E/C) eyes as you witnessed _this_ side of him. They all screamed and tried to flee like rabbits.

_But it was no use._

The first one Alastor killed was the one who tried to hurt you last. He swiped his neck open and yanked out his throat pipes. He choked on his own blood, gasping desperately for air as his lungs were filled with his own blood before dying slowly, collapsing to the dirty concrete as his body took its last strangled breath.

“O-Oh my God!” one of the three girls screamed. She tried to run, but tripped and pathetically fell over her heels.

Alastor scattered the ruptured entrails of both guys first before moving onto the girls. Before he killed them, his dark voice trembled and shook the ground like peals of deep thunder. It shook the ground, echoed within the dark gray skies.

**“Y̵̪͕͕͑̈́o̸̡͉̬̯̻̒͛̒́͂u̶͚̯͇̕̚ͅ ̸̹̤̲̃͌̐́̕͘ṡ̸̨̪̞̹̑ͅḩ̴͙͈͔̺̘͐̊̂͒͂ö̶̩̯̘̰̼̺͎̽ừ̴̢̢͉͖̀̈̈͂͆͜l̸͍̘̩̥̚d̴̺̤̝͙͈̊̐n̸͉̖̠̋̉͗̄̈́͠'̷͇͈͍̺̫̗́t̶̖͙̓ ̷͈͓̿̃̓̈́̎͝͝ḧ̴̫̝͉͉̗́͛̉̒̂̕a̸̹̱͚̿̉͌̊͝ṽ̶̜̞̾̾ẻ̸̩̠̲̘̲͓͈ ̷̟̦̓̑h̴̨̝͎̻̼̽͑̓͋̀̕͜͝u̵̡̯͙̓̍̓ŗ̵̛̟͎̠̤̇͒́͛ẗ̶̡̡͓̯͙́ ̸̯͇̏̄̿h̸̡͍̠̭͙͊͜ȩ̷̢̻͉͛r̸̩͑̑̐̋̔.”**

Blood was splattered over the ground and walls, painted over the brick like a piece of art. It _frightened_ you, but you knew he would never harm you like they did. Like your father did. Reverting to his normal self, he cupped your cheeks with his hands, though it smeared crimson blood on your face. You couldn’t find yourself to care anymore. You were _captivated_. He loves you so much he would _kill_. And you witnessed his love firsthand.

You returned home early from school. School didn’t matter anymore. You found your father lying on the sofa with a glass bottle of cheap alcohol. He narrowed his eyes angrily at you when you entered.

“You ain’t supposed to be here, girl.”

“Perhaps, but neither should you,” you replied dully. “ _You should’ve been dead a long time ago._ ”

“Fucking excuse me!?” 

“I should’ve killed you before you could kill Mom.”

He jumped off the sofa and stormed closer to you, rage burning bright, his bottle prepared to be used as a weapon. But his danger didn’t even hold a candle to Alastor’s fury. Before his dirty hands could touch you, Alastor’s physical form manifested directly in front of you, shadows curling around him as he menacingly grinned at your father with crimson insanity. Your father came to a halt immediately, gawking at the deer demon in shock.

“What the—” before he could finish his sentence, you watched as Alastor plunged his hand through his chest, like a hot knife slicing through butter. You watched as he ripped your father’s heart out with his bare hands. Your father’s eyes become glassy and lifeless as his corpse falls to the floor, scarlet blood pooling around him, mixing in with his spilled liquor. The gruesome sight surprisingly doesn’t bring burning bile up your throat. Instead, you gazed up at Alastor with the softest of smiles.

Alastor’s hand snapped shut, bursting the heart, _shattering it_. He then turned to you, smiling maniacally, blooding dripping down from his hands.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

You shakily inhaled before nodding. “Y-Yeah.”

He leaned forward and stole yet another kiss. The scent of metallic blood was heavy, but all you could focus on was your new lover. How _intoxicating_ he was, and how he found you to be as well.

“I don’t understand,” you murmured when you broke apart. “Why are you doing this for me?”

He nuzzled against your cheek affectionately. “ _Because you belong to me, my darling doe._ ”

Green light circled around your forms, twisting and twirling around you like a magic show. But it was _real_. It was _all real._

“Now,” Alastor spoke with a cheery smile, gazing at you with genuine love, “shall we go _home_ , my dear?”

You breathed out, captivated by him, heart swelling with pure joy and newfound _love_.

“ _Yes._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> More Alastor/Reader stories will be made!  
> Feedback is appreciated!


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